


Gone

by TheRealSokka



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Character Death, El deserves everything good in this world, F/M, Gen, Grief, M/M, Memories, but thankfully not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealSokka/pseuds/TheRealSokka
Summary: When Mike saw what the men pulled out of the water, it felt like someone had buried a burning knife in his chest. The pain was so real that it felt like a part of him had died, too





	Gone

Mike Wheeler wasn't a violent person.

He wasn’t. He didn't even think he had ever hit someone in his life. There were couple of times when he had wanted to do it (mostly the stupid boys from school who never left them alone), but even then one of his friends’ hands on his arm or a whispered word would quickly pull him away. Mike was the idea guy, who solved problems with words rather than fists. That didn't always work – see Troy and co – but it was who he was. Even when everything was going horrible he had never felt this crazy urge to lash out that they seemed to have.

Until they pulled the body out of the water.

When Mike saw what was on the stretcher, it felt like someone had buried a burning knife in his chest. The pain was so real that it felt like a part of him had died, too. His response, his first reaction had been outright denial: he’d told himself that he shouldn't be ridiculous; that _couldn't_ be Will, it couldn't be. He must have looked wrong.

But Lucas and Dustin were there, too, and they were just staring at the body. None of them said what they all knew; that that couldn’t be their friend on that stretcher. Mike wanted someone, anyone, to tell him this wasn’t real, even as he begun to understand it was. But no one did. And he had snapped.

It wasn’t her fault, none of it was, and a part of Mike knew that. But that part couldn’t make itself heard over the boiling anger pounding in his ears, an overwhelming kind of anger at – everything, really. Eleven just happened to be the vent.

Afterwards, Mike barely even remembered what he had shouted at her. His anger clouded his memory like a blanket. It was a purely protective mechanism, because the reality was too hard to look at without a filter. It had kept him going all the way until he reached home, without looking back once. Then he couldn't hold it back any longer.

Will was gone.

He was really, really gone.

Now Mike just felt numb. He'd allowed his worried mother to steer him to the couch, even make him a mug of hot chocolate, but he hadn’t touched it. He couldn’t bring himself to move. There was an emptiness inside him, a gaping hole where a small boy with a quiet voice and gentle eyes should be. Who had been a part of him for as long as he could remember.

Will belonged by his side, always had. Not once had Mike thought he would ever not be there. It wasn’t a possibility. Unthinkable. He had looked so small on that stretcher...

Mike shut his eyes, refused to see that image again, but it just continued to play behind his eyelids like a macabre film that he couldn't stop.

_You shouldn’t have let him leave. He would be alive if you hadn’t let him leave._

The thought alone was enough for Mike’s stomach to tie itself in knots. _It was his fault_. Will shouldn’t have driven home alone that night. Mike shouldn’t have let him. He could have said something, anything, to make his friend stay. He could have let Will stay the night; he could have biked home with him to make sure he was safe. But he hadn’t. And now he would never get to do any of that again, because Will was gone.

Mike doubled over on the couch. It hurt like a part of him had been ripped away, a part that he’d always just taken for granted. He didn't know what to do now. Of all the bad things Mike had feared could happen to him, Will had been by his side through all of them. They'd always been Mike&Will, Will&Mike, inseparable, glued together, ever since that first day on the swings. Then one day they suddenly were Mike&Will&Lucas, and then, similarly out of nowhere, Dustin came along and joined the group. Mike couldn't explain how it had happened himself. By all accounts, their friendship just started, without any preamble, but no one questioned it, because it just felt right. Even though they fought and argued a lot. Even that felt right.

Will liked to say – had liked – _liked_ to say that Mike was the glue that held them all together, but the older boy had never really believed that. He had just gotten very lucky, that was all; lucky that, years ago when he was alone, a boy on a swing had said Yes. That was what really made up the heart of their group.

Had made up.

What in the world had happened, after Will had driven off their lawn just two days ago? How had he ended up in the water, like a puppet whose strings had been cut? It didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t. He couldn’t just be gone.

Mike hadn't even wished him goodbye.

His tears were all dried up and all that came out of his throat was a dry sob. Mike hugged his knees, rocking back and forth on the sofa. His hot chocolate had long ago gone cold.

At some point he heard a knock on the basement door. Mechanically, he untangled himself from the blankets and went to open it.

The girl who stood outside stared at him with wide, red rimmed eyes: "Mike..."

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that she must have walked here all the way from the quarry. He turned around wordlessly. He couldn't even bring himself to shout at her anymore. What was the point?

El haltingly sat down in her blanket fort – he already instinctively thought of it as hers – but Mike barely noticed. His eyes had zeroed in on a small box behind the sofa, half-buried under toys and pillows. His heart gave a sharp jolt. He tugged the box out and lifted the lid.

And there they were: a thick stack of paper containing every single one of Will’s drawings that he had given to Mike over the years. Mike tenderly reached for the top-most one. It was only a week old and featured a scene from school, where a stick-figure-Lucas was unsuccessfully attempting to flirt with a girl he’d had a crush on. The look on his face and even the fanning hair of the girl as she’d twirled away from them was true to life.

Mike chuckled at the memory. Will had smiled apologetically when he’d showed the picture to him. Lucas would have probably crumpled it and used it as ammunition, had he showed it to him first. Mike had never gotten around to teasing his friend over it.

He sat down on the sofa, flipping through the drawings. They were all done in Will’s signature style, even though his friend always claimed he didn’t have one. But Mike could recognize a Will Byers drawing anywhere. Lots of bright colours and eraser smudges, that was Will; cause he was never quite happy with how his creations first turned out. Someday, Mike was certain, those would hang in every art gallery in the country. His friend was far too modest to even voice that thought, of course, but there wasn’t any doubt.

Mike faltered. For a moment he had forgotten, and now that he remembered it only hurt more. Will’s drawings would never be hung up anywhere; the one Mike was holding would be the last one he’d ever see. His fingers dug into the box so hard that it hurt. He only narrowly stopped himself from throwing the entire thing through the room.

The noise of static broke through his hurt, and Mike looked up to see El fiddling with his supercom. She was switching the channels back and forth. Mike wasn’t sure what she was looking for; of course, none of his friends would answer right now. Maybe it was her way of dealing with what she’d seen. But for some reason the noise was infuriating. It sounded so _normal_ , as if this would be just another night of late, hushed conversations with the Party. The _entire_ Party.

“Stop that!” Mike snapped. El flinched and looked at him with wide eyes. Then she turned away. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Mike instantly felt bad. He hated feeling so angry all the time. But it was better than focusing on that gaping hole in his chest. He just wanted to be left alone and forget.

No, what he really wanted was to look up and see a boy with a shy smile and bowl cut sitting next to him and admire his old drawings with him, like they used to do. Will had always been so excited when he showed Mike what he had made. Excited and shy, in a way that only Will Byers could be.

(“ _Do you really like it?_

_Love it!”)_

But that would never happen again. Mike furiously wiped away a single stray tear before it could fall onto the precious paper. It wasn't fair. He wanted his friend back. He wanted to go back to that evening and hold Will and stop him from ever leaving. He wanted to tell him, tell him so much; all these ideas and plans he had that they would never get to do now. Ideas for campaigns. He wanted to tell him about El and what she could do and why he was so fascinated by her. And how much he meant to him.

And how he could not imagine his life without Will. That most of all. Why had he never told him that? There had been so much time.

Now he’d never get the chance.

And El had started fiddling with the supercom again. The crackle of static seemed to get louder and louder, and soon Mike’s parents would come down to check what the noise was.

"I said stop that!"

And then another sound suddenly came out of the device. Softer and quieter than static, but somehow it filled the entire basement. More familiar to Mike than his own voice.

_"Should I stay or should I go now...?"_

**Author's Note:**

> Re-watching the first season has really made me respect the quality of the acting from everyone. There's so much you can read into every little scene, and I love it.
> 
> ...though maybe, given the fact that this made me emotional even on the first watch, that's not the right way to put it.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: I might add this to the "Together" collection, once I figure out how to order it all.


End file.
